Now and Then
by sundroptea
Summary: Lois Lane wakes up in Vegas with Clark Kent in bed with her. Then, life spirals off into chaos. Clark/Lois
1. Chapter 1

Title: Now and Then

Author: Sundroptea

Rating: M (M! M! M! NO KIDS!)

Pairing: Lois/Clark (is there any other?)

Summary: Lois Lane wakes up in Las Vegas with Clark Kent in her bed. Life sort of spirals out of control from there..

Disclaimer: If I owned any part of this show… God, I'm drooling a little just imagining it. I don't though, so please don't sue me.

Author's Note: Hi, y'all! Please don't ask me what season this takes place in. I'm just going with AU season nine, or late season eight. Or something. I'm sorry. This is what I get for abandoning a story for a year. Though I maintain that it wasn't so much abandoned, because I never forgot about it and always tried to work on it… Thank god for this season of Clois because it's amazing what a little onscreen hotness can do for my writing mojo. This is posted on Divine Intervention, too, so if you feel like maybe you might have read it somewhere… you may have. I finally overcame my block on this story so I figured I'd post it here. I hope you guys like it. Thank you very much to everyone who reads and reviews and CAN A I GET A WOOT FOR SEASON NINE?

***

~Now~

The hand on her stomach was a dead giveaway that something was different in her life. For starters, it wasn't her hand. Her sleepy eyes crossed as she examined it, out of focus, not at all awake enough to wonder why she wasn't panicking.

Secondly, it was a male hand, and it was curled possessively against her skin, cupping her body just below her belly button. Hmm. It looked nice there, she decided fuzzily. It could stay while she woke up more.

She was so comfortable; that boneless languor that comes with being warm and happy weighed in every limb and she wasn't ready to move. She nuzzled a bit into the pillow, and in doing so realized that it wasn't a pillow at all, but a bicep- presumably belonging to the owner of the hand.

_Makes sense_, she deduced. _I wouldn't argue the point_. Her eyes drifted shut again; the heat radiating off the man behind her was just too soothing for words.

It was a nice bicep, and it was doing an excellent job as her headrest, so she rewarded it with a brush of her lips before she settled back into the crook of it. _Mmm. Skin smells nice too. Double points._

The action seemed to rouse the man behind her, because she felt him shift, using the arm around her to pull her more fully against him. _Liberties_, she thought, completely at ease with it. _Perfectly all right. I'm excellent to snuggle, and you may feel free_. He mumbled something incoherent, and goose bumps sprung up when she felt the rumble of it against her back.

She reached down, mostly back to sleep by now, to pull the blankets up over them both. Firm lips pressed to her neck, she assumed in thanks. _You're welcome, space heater. Anytime_.

She looped her fingers through the ones on her stomach, and smiled, not knowing why. _Different doesn't always have to be bad_, she told herself. _If life always changes in the yummy/comfortable direction, you're ahead of the game_.

***

~Then~

"If that paw moves so much as one scant inch more in this direction, Smallville, I'm going to break it off, and I'm going to do it with glee."

She didn't turn to see that he'd dropped his arm and was scowling in her direction, but he guessed she maybe caught the sentiment from the way her lip twitched. She didn't look impressed.

"Look, buddy, I told you when the movie started: the Devil Dogs belong to me. They were a gift, from both my sister, and the chocolate gods, and as such they are not to be trifled with. Now sit back, and content yourself with the other, admittedly lesser, snacks available." She looked over the table disinterestedly and picked up the lone bag of carrot sticks she had brought as a joke. The unopened package thumped him in the chest. He eyed it crossly.

"Lois, has anyone ever told you that you're almost _too_ generous?" He pinched the bag between two fingers and flung it away, crossing his arms, and forgoing snacks altogether. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Now why would you go and ask a pointed question like that, farmboy?"

Clark smirked before going in for the kill. "Because my parents always raised me not to lie, and if someone ever told a whopper like that, I would feel it my moral duty to set them straight."

He caught her feet as they kicked at him, and held her ankles so she wouldn't hurt herself. He smiled at her, liking the way she wrinkled her nose at him, conceding that he had the upper hand in this case. He kept hold of her even after she stopped, tucking a blanket over her cold toes and wedging them against his warm side in a gesture that was completely instinctual on his part. She must have forgotten her slippers again. He turned back to the movie, and within a minute was back in the world of giant metal monsters and military subterfuge.

Lois didn't say anything, just wiggled her toes a bit to get comfortable, but halfway through the movie he noticed that there was an unaccounted for Devil Dog on his side of the couch.

***

~Now~

The next time she woke up, she actually woke up. She yawned, and started to sit up, strangely reluctant to remove the arm around her, but needing badly to stretch. Something caught her eye as she did so.

Something on her finger.

Her ring finger.

A ring on her ring finger- no, a set.

A set of rings, on her ring finger, _on her left hand_.

Consciousness hit.

She whirled around and faced the man who was sporting a matching band, and her eyes widened. She was married. _She_ was married. She was _married_.

_To Clark Kent._

_Oh, snap,_ she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I haven't magically gained ownership from the last chapter to this one. Damn.

***

~Then~

"So what now?" queried Lois, as the credits began to scroll across the screen. She stretched and didn't notice the attention the action attracted from her companion.

Clark cleared his throat and ducked his head to hide his blush. "What do you mean what now?"

"Smallville, it's six o'clock on a Friday night. Even in Kansas we should be able to rustle up _something_ to do. I mean, we're young! We're fu- well, I'm fun, and you aren't nearly as mopetastic as you used to be, so I'll give you points for that. There's gotta be some sort of worthwhile pass time of which we might partake." She gathered up a hefty armful of corn syrup and transfat and went to put it all away in the kitchen.

"Mopetastic?" he spluttered indignantly, as he began to rinse the plates. She fell to drying easily, and cast him an arch look.

"What? I gave you the points! And p.s. that was being kind." She flung an arm up to cover her eyes, and assumed a dramatic pose. "Ohhhhhhhhh- woe is I! Foolish and accurséd fates, to be so cruel as to keep me from my ain true love! Alas! I shall perish forthwith!"

He snapped her smartly across the rump with the spare tea towel and glared.

"I wasn't like that!"

She smirked at him. "No, of course not. This is _you_ we're talking about. It was more: Clarkie mad! Clarkie sad! Clarkie has boohoohoo!"

She crossed her eyes and let her mouth go slack, tilting her head and drooling.

"You're mean," he sniffed, drying his hands and shelving the remaining bits of detritus. She threw her arms around his middle, and squeezed, pressing up against his back playfully.

"You love me for it, Smallville! It's part of my ample charm, and you'd miss it if it disappeared."

There was a cracking sound as she let go. Clark whirled around hastily and began shuffling her towards the living room, away from the finger shaped indentations in the countertop.

***

~Now~

So the trick of this was going to be moving slowly enough that she didn't attract his attention, and yet quickly enough that he didn't notice her absence. _Like a stealthy band aid, Lois,_ she told herself. _You can do this_.

The tidal wave of images from the day before (_and the night_, she reminded herself reluctantly, _don't forget about last night, you gutless horny toad_) that overcame her when she'd spotted the rings had led her to fall back into the pillows. She'd half decided that she was dreaming, and had determined that going back to sleep to try and wake up again was the best course of action, when she'd felt Clark's large hand wrap itself snuggly around her upper thigh. The effect it was having on her would only be too noticeable if those long fingers of his trailed bare inches upwards, and that brought her to her current plan of fleeing. Fleeing was the order of the day.

_Left leg stretches out, hooks around the edge of the bed, yeeessss, like so, well done, Lois, good pilates investment. Right hand moves to brace what is sure to be a smooth, graceful, fluid movement with absolutely no complications whatsoever-_ The hand on her leg tightened, and the thumb stroked a slow path over her thigh. She looked over to see wide open blue-green eyes staring at her with an indefinable gleam. _Shit._

Lois closed her mouth with a snap, realizing that the combination of the eyes and the hand and the rings and the surreal hotel surroundings had left her gaping at him like some sort of super naked land fish.

"Uh, good morning, Smallville!" She trilled, her voice tight. These situations tended to produce memory loss in one or more of their participants, and since she could sketch the gist of it, she assumed that he was up to bat for Team Amnesia. She tried to slide her left hand under the covers discretely, hoping against hope he wouldn't notice and start freaking out. She hadn't gotten through sorting out her own feelings on the subject yet, and she didn't want to add his loud and caustic disapproval to the jumbled mix of horror and guilt-laden intrigue she was feeling. How often did a person wake up married to Clark Kent? There was an appeal there that she was honest enough to admit to herself. Either way, she wasn't ready to deal with him losing his nuggets while they were both naked. She vaguely noted his hand had yet to leave her thigh.

Apparently she worried prematurely. There was no nugget losing at all. At least, not on his part. So smoothly she didn't even see him do it he had her partway under him, and he was cradling her body in his large, gentle arms. He stroked a proprietary hand down her rib cage, and his lips brushed hers briefly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kent," he grinned against her neck, ignoring how she stiffened against him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

***

~Then~

"Chess?"

"Boring."

"Video games?"

"Martha took the cords to the machine with her. Something about wanting to find the house in one piece when she gets back."

"Monopoly?" he grit his teeth, desperate even to suggest it. Lois Lane shouldn't be allowed to play most games (too competitive and, he remembered the bruise she gave Chloe the last time they'd all played Uno, too violent), but Monopoly brought out the worst, ugliest, meanest, most ruthless side of her, and it, quite frankly, scared the crap out him.

She loved it though.

"No," she replied, sulkily. She crossed her arms, and stuck her tongue out at him. "You cheated last time."

"I did not! I never cheat!" He stared at her, agape and irritated. She blew a raspberry. "I won fair and square, Lois Lane, and you just couldn't handle it!" He continued to bang his head against the back of the couch, wondering if it could be construed as misusing his powers if he just took off like a shot, leaving her here to sling accusations at his empty chair. Knowing Lois, he chuckled to himself, it probably wouldn't stop her. Or faze her. She'd continue listing his faults, organize them into a proper list, and save them for the next time she saw him.

"Please," she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "There is no way that I could have landed on your Boardwalk-with-hotel three times in a row unless you loaded the dice!"

"Couldn't. Handle. It." He annunciated slowly, mostly just to irritate her eyes into narrowing the way he liked. She tossed her hair out of her face haughtily and changed the subject, without responding.

"C'mon, Smallville! There's gooooooooooooootta be something we can do! Think big!" He wracked his brains, coming up short. Between the two of them, they'd shot down almost everything there was to do, ever, let alone on a Friday night in Kansas. It would be less of a problem if she knew about his superspeed, because then they would at least have the options of places that stayed open after dark. Shame.

"A walk?" he suggested, vowing that if this failed, he would simply duct tape her mouth shut, and leave her tied up on the couch with TV on. Then his mind trailed off down the gutter path of Lois tied up, and it was with some difficulty that he pulled himself, blushing, back to the present where Lois was talking.

"A walk?" Her eyebrow darted up in disbelief. "That's your big idea? A walk through darkened farm land over uneven ground at seven thirty in the evening on a Friday night? If that's your go-to plan for funtimes, it's no small wonder that I found you wandering naked and helpless in a cornfield."

"Helpless!?" he choked, but tugged her to her feet anyway, dropping it, as it could only lead to uncomfortable questions. "It beats sitting around here, bickering like an old m-"

He cut himself off hastily and attempted a diversion. "What's the matter, Lo? Big city girl like you scared of the country dark?"

Just as he'd predicted, all her hackles stood up on end, and suddenly she was pulling on her boots. "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, Joe Dirt? Fine! Let's go on this magical walk of yours. Who knows? Maybe lightning will strike twice and I'll get Amnesia Boy back. At least he knew his strengths were cut abs and a quiet voice!"

She had already marched to the coat closet for their scarves and jackets so she didn't see the faintly pleased expression cross his blushing face before he rolled his eyes and followed her.

***

~Now~

The look he was giving her was doing awful, fluttery things to her knees. It was a devastating mix of sexual frustration and tender amusement. His eyes were trained on her fixedly as she pressed herself tightly back against the headboard with a steely, if panicky, determination. He held his weight on his arms, one braced on either side of her hips, cradling her body with his.

"It's a little late for maidenly reluctance, Lo." He stroked down her stomach with the backs of his fingers and she felt herself start to cave, as the lust welled up. He nuzzled his nose briefly into the valley between her breasts, and she gulped. "I mean- I've already seen you… all of you. From every possible ang-"

"A step back!" she yelped, flinging herself from the bed gracelessly, out from under his damnably skilled hands. "We need a step back."

In her frazzled state it took her a moment to register that he was quirking his eyebrow at her, and a moment more to realize why. She snatched abortively at the first thing she could reach- a pillow- and held it in front of her, mortified. "A clothed one! A very clothed step back is in order here!"

She found even with her brave words that she couldn't make herself avert her eyes from his decidedly unclothed body, stretched out unabashedly over the large bed. She flushed bright red as he sat up, bemused, but making no move to cover himself. She could read the waning patience in his eyes like front page copy, warring with the increasing desire she was finding difficult to ignore and disconcerting. As she backed away, she tried to assess the situation in which she currently found herself.

In what alternate dimension was Clark Kent the one attempting to convince her that it was for the best if they made with the sexin'?

One long, muscled arm swept out and caught her retreating form, dragging her gently back to his warm side.

"No steps back, wife," he murmured against her lips, pulling her into his lap and using the fingers threaded in her tumbling, unbound hair to tilt her head for him. He trailed the warm metal of his wedding band down her side and Lois' entire body jerked in startled want. He wrapped one of her long legs around his waist, and she let him, the guilt-laden lust raging through her leaving her pliable to his touch. He tugged the pillow she was still clutching from her grasp, and tossed it away. "No clothes, either."

And then Lois was lost again in the maze of her own desire for Clark Kent, and she decided if she was going to hell for corrupting and compromising innocent farm boys she might as well make it worth the cost of admission.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Forsooth! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the Clois, and it's still not mine.

***

~Then~

"Well, here we are. In the dirt. Just stumbling around in the dark. In the dirt. With only the smell of the Smith Family Cow Farm for company-"

"Lois, the Smith farm is halfway to Granville! There's no smell out-"

"_With only the smell of the Smith Family Cow Farm for company,_ I said! Not to be rude, farmboy, but if this is the sort of date you favor it's no big surprise you're still Suddenly Single. _In the dirt._"

He was beet red, but she couldn't see it in the dark. Which was good, because she had a way of making sure that moments of embarrassment stretched on into months of reminders.

"This is not where I'd take you for a date," he said without thinking and then cringed because he might as well bend over and hand her the paddle while he's at it.

"Oh no? And just what would your idea of a dream date with yours truly be, huh? I warn you. I'm not one for horse back rides and long evenings spent staring into each other's googly eyes." Her words were delivered in a stinging tone that would have been much more effective had he not been able to see her shuffling forward with both arms out, slightly hunched over, toeing the ground as though walking a tightrope. "I'm more of a do-er than a moon-er, unlike _some_."

"Dream date with you?" he scoffed, beads of sweat prickling his neck as he tried to keep his voice both mocking and even. _If she ever suspected… _He was able to muster passable vitriol in response. "Nightmare would be more to the point."

"Cute. Trite, overplayed, and banal… but cute. Hey! I think we've finally figured out what your online bio should be! Clark Kent- Daily Cliché!"

"Lois!"

"What even made us decide to come out to the farm for the weekend? We have perfectly good apartments in Metropolis- either one of which could have housed Pig and Movie Night. This is your fault somehow. I blame you."

"Lois, this was your idea."

"I beg to differ."

"I said, offhand, that I thought I should head back here to check on Ben and how the farm was doing. You said that I wouldn't be able to handle a trip back without a- what was it? A plaid relapse? You said that you were coming with me to keep all your hard work from being eradicated. You _insisted._"

"I don't have any memory of such events as you describe."

"Are you really countering with 'No comment?'"

Her indignant huff was eclipsed by the curse she shrieked when, in spite of her best efforts, she got caught her foot in a pothole and began to pitch forward. He was there of course, and he had her in his arms before she could even finish the 'uck.' She smelled like coffee and laundry and newsprint and his overly developed senses were individual burdens in moments like these, because he could feel her heat and hear her heart, and he couldn't _do anything about it. _It was just her, and him, his stonking great secret and the fact that he was wrapped around her in the night. He was so dazed, he thought he felt a hitch in her breath. For a split second he wondered if maybe it felt as electric to her. She couldn't have known with the darkness so deep around them that she was staring right into his eyes.

Then, of course, she ruined everything by opening her mouth.

"Seriously, Clark, if your exposition was as impressive as your ludicrous reflexes, I'd almost be worried about you as job competition."

She was set back onto her feet abruptly enough, with that little rejoinder, but his palms were tingling where they'd pressed against her jacket's padding. He turned and began the walk back to the farm. He was letting his mind spiral through the rest of the night, as he imagined it would go (Probably a little discussion of Monday's article, though it was mostly finished, and just needed a spell-and-polish. Then when he ran out of reasons to keep her up with him, she'd take his room. She couldn't just take his mom's she'd informed him. She'd already bonded with his mattress. And since he hadn't had an opportunity earlier to explore the full ramifications of that image, pondering _that_ would be what comprised the remained of his time before he fell asleep.), so it took him a few steps to realize that she wasn't following anymore.

~Now~

"Hell."

His smirk was wicked against her skin. He licked her neck before replying. "Not what I would call it…" Sloppy, devastating kisses dripped down her collar bone. "In fact… You were crying a different tune a few minutes ago. Something about, 'Yes, God, yes?' Wrong setting."

His big hand slid around the full, flushed curve of her breast and when her back arched into it, and it processed how much she wanted him to keep going, she snapped. No. This wasn't fair to him.

"Hell!" she insisted. "Is where I'm going. No. No! We can't do this." He rolled his eyes and started to lean in again, but this time, Lois prevailed. In a single bound she managed to leap out from under him, taking advantage of his distracted state.

She darted into the bathroom, heedless of her state of undress. He made a noise, but the door had already closed and the lock clicking shut overrode part of it so she didn't waste time trying to place the emotion behind it. _What the hell did you get yourself into this time, Lois Lane?_

She leaned against the dark wood, pressed her shaking limbs to it, and marshaled her mental troops. She had to fight the insane and counterproductive urge she had to turn around and pounce. She had taken enough advantage of Clark Kent last night, and she had to be strong here. There would be a way to fix this, and it would be very clever, and everything would be alright, and nothing- not their friendship, not their partnership, and not his good opinion of her- _nothing_- would be ruined. Good. Plan. Not a _good plan_, but a plan... ish thing. Having an outline, however, did nothing to stop her from jumping a foot and a half vertically at the soft knock that vibrated through her frame.

"Lois?"

"Clark. I am in the bathroom."

"I know?"

"So… I'm here now. So… you shouldn't be."

"Lois, this is ridiculous."

"No, Clark, this is the opposite of ridiculous. The word for what this is may be failing me at the moment, but I can tell you that it is not 'ridiculous.'"

"Open up."

"Now _that's _ridiculous."

"You can't stay in there forever."

"You would be damn surprised. There's a phone in here. Room service."

"This is not how I pictured our honeymoon, Lo."

"WILL YOU STOP _SAYING _THINGS LIKE THAT?"

"Like what?"

"Honeymoon. Married. WIFE."

"Oh. Yeah- no."

"CLARK."

She heard a thump, and she imagined maybe he was banging his forehead against the door. She fought back a shiver at the knowledge that only a flimsy sheet of wood separated their bodies. _Not productive,_ she berated herself. Then her knees gave way a little at his next tactic. His voice was low, right near the place on the door that was pressed against her ear. She imagined him ducking a little, bracing himself against the other side with his large, warm palms, and her nerves began a rhythmic, hypnotic jangle.

"What would I have to say to get you to come back to bed with me?"

She bit her lip. Not much from the way the bottom just dropped out of her stomach. _Do it? Maybe, 'I'll let you be on top?'_

"I'm serious. It's too early for this, wife. It's not even light yet. We have hours before we should even start to think about moving."

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THAT WORD?"

"Lois, I want you in my arms, in that bed, and I want to know what you need to hear from me to make that happen."

"How about 'Wake up, Lois. You're drooling again and the staff meeting is over?'"

His chuckle was dark, but indulgent, and she could tell that he was about to pull out a trump card. He knew he was winning. Her heart was thrumming a mile-a-minute.

"I'm flattered, but this isn't a dream. Now, come out here, Mrs. Kent. Or I'm coming in after you."

She spun around, throwing her full weight against the door. "You wouldn't."

"I do not agree."

"You couldn't!"

"Wrong again."

At the tone in his voice her temper flared. "It would be cheating to use your powers!"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish it was, because I'm poor.

Author's Note: So, I fail at being an authoress. Mostly, I blame the fact that my job saps the will to live from me, let alone the will to write but I don't have a great excuse. Here is part five, and I promise I will finish this. It might take me a hellacious amount of time, but I swear. I won't leave you hanging, dear people, if any of you still exist. Your reviews are life to me.

~Then~

"Lois?"

Clark turned in what experts would call a 'bemused circle.' Trust Lois to find a way to sneak off in the middle of an abandoned field. How? How could she? The moonlight, not to mention his -oh yeah- _superpowers_ should have left her no recourse. Knowing Lois it was probably lightyears more nefarious then that. He started back towards where she'd tripped. More than likely, a time-travelling criminal from the future of an alternate dimension had appeared at this exact moment of existence to kidnap her in order to prevent her future self from writing the expose her alternate self would find and use to incarcerate the criminal.

In spite of himself, he started to worry.

_Please be rational. She probably just got hungry. Yes! It wouldn't be the first time she hared off and stole apples out of the Warner orchard. No, the orchard isn't anywhere around here, but she's very fast and I was distracted…._

He blushed, again. _Focus. Maybe she's hiding deliberately, to teach me a lesson about taking her walking for a da- an outing. That would be just like her._

"Lois!"

He began expanding the scope of his vision, thinking that perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. He swept his gaze all the way to the Smith farm, which was, in fact, _more _than halfway to Granville, but found no sign of her. _That's it._

"That's it! LOIS!"

_She's doing this on purpose. _"I know you're doing this on purpose!"

Just then, he tripped, himself. He looked down, blinking stupidly for a moment as the terror ate its way up from the pit of his stomach.

_Or, she could be down there. _He stared into the angry maw that signaled the rim of the massive sinkhole that was now pitting the road.

~Now~

On the bathroom side of the door, Lois had her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers tightly crossed. It was a risky gambit, to be sure, but the Clark Kent she knew was the cornerstone on which nobility was defined; his honesty was renowned (excluding, of course, during Monopoly because, really? Four times?). He wouldn't cheat.

She just needed to buy herself enough time to think of a way out of this. Vegas weddings happened all the time, if the tabloids were to be believed. All you needed to marry here were two valid driver's licenses and the spirit of Elvis to bless the union. This could be an extremely funny story to tell, in the distant… very… distant future years.

A scoff mixed with a growl told her that there was a clear disbelief on the bedroom side of the heavy oak door. Then, a sigh. If she was honest, it sounded like a huff, but, she told herself, you take what you get at this point.

"Alright, Lois. Panic for now, if you have to. I'm going to go get us breakfast, but by the time I get back, I want you-" his footsteps sounded faintly as they headed away from the bathroom. If she strained her ears she could hear the buckle clank against the denim of his jeans as he put them on, but the end of the ultimatum escaped her. She didn't allow herself the luxury of imagining the scene, too busy was she rewarding herself with an impromptu victory dance. This served to remind her that she was not nearly as young (or stretchy) as she remembered being. She started the hot water running full blast. _Shower time! Hot, relaxing, idea producing, husband free shower time!_

Something occurred to her. She thumped her fist against the wood.

"What?"

He was back- she could feel the immense, masculine heat of him sinking through the wood grain. "What, what?"

_In order to smack him, you'd need to open the door. If you open the door, you're going to do things that will shame the house of Kent. _"You were saying something, then you walked away. You want what?"

The low chuckle unnerved her, and without stopping to analyze what she was doing she flung the cold taps on as far as they would go.

"I want you- nothing. That was the end of the sentence."

_Fuck._ She thought, and scolded herself that it actually sounded more like a plea, in her head.


End file.
